No Victory Dance
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: B:tVS, ID4. Another way the Slayer might have ended up in Sunnydale and what might have happened after.
1. No Victory Dance

**Title**: No Victory Dance

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS/ID4

**Summary**: Another way the Slayer might have ended up in Sunnydale. 1000 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: Buffy pre-"Welcome to the Hellmouth" (1.1); Independence Day (1996)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Imagine that Buffy's showdown at Hemery High happened (as all her apocalypsi tended to do) in May of 1996, and it just took Joyce six months to straighten things out and find a place to move to (on the show, Buffy transferred to Sunnydale in early 1997). Now recall that ID4 came out in Summer 1996... and add to that that July 2nd of that year was a Tuesday...

* * *

_"We will not go quietly into the night.  
We will not vanish without a fight.  
We're going to live on.  
We're going to survive.  
Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!"_  
Bill Pullman, ID4

* * *

Buffy Summers' parents hadn't reacted well at all to her expulsion from Hemery High, nor her attempt at explaining just why she'd felt it necessary to burn down the school's gym. Their little girl, the popular cheerleader without a serious thought in her head, suddenly claiming she was Chosen to fight demons? Bye bye, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, hello, Buffy the Mental Patient. Even after she'd pretended to be cured and the docs sent her home they'd kept watching her warily out of the corners of their eyes. The only one who'd believed her had been Dawn, and even then, Buffy wasn't sure whether she'd _really_ thought Buffy was telling the truth or if the ten-year-old had just been fascinated with a new source of exciting, gory stories.

The appearance of an enormous metal disk above the city one Tuesday morning a month later was their first real clue that there might have been more to her claims than they'd thought. If aliens were real, then who was to say demons weren't real, as well?

Buffy certainly wasn't making any distinction between them. Merrick hadn't had much time to teach her about the metaphysical aspects of being the One Girl In All The World, but she had a pretty good idea that the creepy-crawly sensation and severe stomach cramps she had felt from the moment the ship arrived were not good signs. It was like a million Lothos-es were hovering just out of reach, and the urge to Slay was a constant surge under her skin.

"I'm not imagining things," Buffy told her mother calmly as she dragged a suitcase out of the hall closet and carried it into her bedroom. With or without her family, preferably with, she intended to get the hell out of Dodge; there was no way she was staying here. "I know you didn't believe me before, and okay, maybe it all sounded a little crazy, but look out the window, Mom! If that's not proof, I don't know what is."

"But the President said to stay calm, they're trying to make contact," Joyce objected, wringing her hands. "Would he stay in the White House if they thought we were in danger?"

"You think he wants to start a panic?" Buffy cut her off, scooping out the contents of her drawers. "Look, Mom, these things aren't from around here. If that ship is any clue, they are a lot more advanced than we are. You think they're going to look down at us and see people they should treat as equals?" She might play dumb in school, but she had learned a few things in her History class about the colonization period, and she'd picked up a lot more about the way the strong treated the weak since her introduction to the demonic underground. Slaves, trespassers, menu items... she had no way of knowing which category the new arrivals would put humans in, but she was willing to bet it would be somewhere on that list.

Joyce had no effective answer for her daughter's caution; it seemed only common sense to get somewhere safer for a little while, then sort out the details when they returned. A call to her husband netted the promise that he'd join them at a hotel up the interstate after work, and another to her assistant at the gallery arranged to close the place up for a few days. Then she packed her bags, collected a few things for her younger daughter, and drove over to pick Dawn up from a slumber party she'd attended the night before. A little family vacation couldn't hurt, anyway; it might be just the thing to patch her failing marriage back together.

One thing led to another, however, and Hank Summers was still caught in downtown traffic when an eerie green light lit up the sky over L.A. and the US Bank tower exploded in an ever-increasing ball of flame. His wife and daughters saw the distant glow from the one-Starbucks town of Sunnydale two hours up the coast where they'd stopped that night, and knew that their world would never be the same.

They waited out the ensuing destruction helplessly over the next 36 hours, not knowing where else to go, as city after city and military base after military base were added to the casualty lists on the emergency radio networks. It was as though the aliens had a list of targets in their heads, rated from most populous or dangerous to least, and were eliminating them in order. Sunnydale might be small, but it was only a matter of time before its name came up. Even the underworld seemed to be in shock; the streets were all utterly quiet when Buffy snuck out to patrol, as if the demons knew their fate would be tied to humanity's this time around.

It all ended the afternoon of July 4th, with a shout of celebration over the radio and a vibrant meteor shower lighting the sky from horizon to horizon. Parts from the destroyed mother ship, the announcer had explained, then played a tape they'd received from someone who had been at Area 51 that morning during a rousing speech the President had given the troops.

The words were very pretty, but the Slayer in Buffy kept her from applauding with everyone else. _"Mankind... that word should have new meaning for all of us today,"_ Whitmore said. _"We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore"_-- but why should that be true now, when it hadn't been in the past? What about the demonic menace that had lived among them for uncounted generations? And what would happen when the world had to deal with the inevitable survivors from those huge alien ships? Humanity might have won the day, but they had by no means won the war.

She looked out the window at the fireworks and knew that this was not the end of anything.

Good thing she'd thought to bring her sword.

(fin)


	2. Buffy Summers, Alien Slayer

**Title**: Buffy Summers, Alien Slayer 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS/Independence Day (ID4)

**Summary**: In any universe, Joyce Summers doesn't react well to her daughter's unique occupation. Double drabble.

**Notes**: B:tVS pre-series but post-movie; Independence Day (1996). Challenge response. Tag to my earlier fic, "No Victory Dance".

* * *

Buffy watched incredulously as her mother scurried around the hotel room with a damp washcloth and a sample-sized bottle of disinfectant cleanser. "Mom, the world just almost ended. I think they're a little more worried about the evil planet-plundering aliens than whether or not our current living quarters can pass a white glove test."

Joyce sank to a seat on one of the room's queen-sized beds, nervously wringing the rag in her hands. "I know. It's just-- the President is coming. Here! To meet my daughter!"

Buffy sighed and sat down next to her, reaching for one of her mother's hands. "Mom, it's okay; it's not like he's coming here for lunch, or anything. The Watcher's Council told him about me so I could hunt down alien survivors on the government payroll, not host a party."

"I know you're right," Joyce said, squeezing Buffy's hand. "But..."

"Don't worry, Mom," Buffy interrupted her, pretty sure of what was really upsetting her mother. "I know what I'm doing, and there'll be back-up; I'm not going to get killed."

"You'd better not," Joyce replied, tearfully. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Buffy said, and wrapped her up in a hug.

--


	3. Hero on the Hellmouth

**Title**: Hero on the Hellmouth 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS/Independence Day (ID4)

**Summary**: And Xander had thought _aliens_ were a lot to get his mind around...

**Spoilers**: B:tVS mid-"Welcome to the Hellmouth" (1.1); Independence Day (1996).

* * *

"I'm okay," Xander breathed, sprawled at the feet of the unknown golden goddess walking up the steps to Sunnydale High School. "I feel good."

She smiled at him a little, tucking her hair behind her ears-- and then the recognition hit him. He knew those eyes! She wasn't just some transfer student he hadn't met before; she was Agent Winter! He'd seen her on the news just the night before, being interviewed along with Captain Hiller-- the guy who'd actually blown up the alien mothership-- and the tall geeky guy who wrote the virus that had brought down the aliens' shields. The three of them were the public face of the task force currently hunting down the aliens who'd survived the July 4 battles, bona fide heroes, not the kind of person you just ran into in your hometown.

Fortunately the immediate arrival of Willow, stepping over his legs, distracted him from any prolonged gaping or awkward commentary. "Willow! You're so very much the person that I wanted to see!" he exclaimed with relief, climbing back to his feet.

"Oh really?" his best friend said, grinning at him, as they began to walk into the school.

He babbled something about math, mind still stuck on Agent Winter, and Willow babbled something back about the library. By that time, the blonde who may or may not have been the first advanced human being openly acknowledged to be employed by the government (though where there was one, there had to be others, kind of like cockroaches, and suddenly his comic books were looking more and more like exaggerations instead of complete imagination) had disappeared out of sight, and Jesse had joined them.

They quickly established that no one knew anything about the new girl, not even rumors of a transfer student, so Xander shared his theory with them. They didn't believe him, of course; they both laughed it off, even Jesse who'd caught a glimpse of her. But then, Xander had had a far closer look, and she wasn't exactly in the camo gear she always wore on TV. Not to mention, those boots they usually showed her in must have had serious heels, because man, he could practically fit her in his pocket.

She looked a lot younger in student-wear, too, maybe their age-- though he was sure that couldn't be possible. Or could it? The whole reason the government talked about her at all (at least, according to Willow) was to boost morale, after so many billions of people had died and so many cities had been blown up and the war _still_ wasn't over. The president wanted people to know that the problem was being taken care of, and that they really did have someone on their side who could kick the bogeyman's butt. He'd pushed for all the schools in safe, undamaged areas to reopen, requested that people return to work wherever they were able, and most Americans, trusting in what he told them, had done as he asked. Would everyone still feel safe if they knew their current savior was, like, sixteen?

Willow and Jesse saw the truth for themselves a few minutes later, though, when they spotted her coming out of the principal's office. A girl bumped into Agent Winter and made her drop her bag, and strange-looking old books spilled out on the floor along with sheaves of notes, something that looked like schematics, and a few pointy sticks that were too big to be hair accessories. Both of Xander's friends froze and stared like they'd seen a ghost, but Xander, already over his inital shock, dove in to help.

He got a longer look at her as he helped her scoop her things back into the bag, and was struck all over again at how _gorgeous_ she was. But of course she was gorgeous; she was a superhero... whom he was actually helping, whose belongings he was actually _touching_...

Hurriedly, Xander spoke up, hoping to deflect his nervousness and make a better impression than he had already with the botched skateboard stunt on the stairs. "Can I have you?" he asked.

It wasn't until her lovely foreheard started wrinkling up in confusion that he realized he'd managed to put his foot in his mouth again, and he chuckled, wincing. "Duh. Can I help you?"

She smiled, but only said, "Thanks."

Desperate to make further conversation-- to at least get her name-- Xander babbled onward. "I don't know you, do I?"

"I'm Buffy," she replied, then looked away as her smile waned. "Buffy Summers. I-- I don't actually go here, I'm being tutored, but I'll be visiting the library sometimes."

_Secret identity, check_, Xander thought to himself. Though how she expected to _keep_ it that way when her face was constantly being used as a publicity tool, he couldn't imagine. "Xander. Is, is me. Hi," he said, tripping over his tongue as he tried to introduce himself in return.

"Um, thanks," she said, studiously gathering her things.

He held his tongue as he finished helping her. She probably got hit on all the time by strange guys; what made him think he was anything special? She was _famous_, and he had nothing going for him. When she had the last item tucked away, one of those pieces of wood that looked a lot like some kind of stake, he took a deep breath and bid her farewell. "Well, uh, maybe I'll see you around... maybe in the library... since I... uh... go here."

"Great!" she replied as she shouldered the bag and stood, favoring him with another smile. "It was nice to meet you." The smile didn't touch her eyes, but Xander's heart nearly stopped all the same, dazzled by white teeth, soft, tanned skin, and a hint of dimples.

Every day after that encounter, every time he had a few minutes free he swung by the library just to see if she was there. Not that he'd interrupt her or bother her or anything-- he just wanted to see her again. Willow teased him about it, but he could tell she was pleased, since he started actually doing his homework in there, too. It had the added bonus of keeping him busy after school, too, and the librarian guy always seemed so pleased to have students actually looking at his books. He was kind of cool, in an old, tweedy, Alfred kind of way, and let Xander hide his stash of Twinkies behind the counter. (They were a lot safer there than in his pack or his locker these days; sweets of all kinds were pretty scarce since the manufacturing plants in a lot of the major cities had been blown up in the initial invasion).

Two weeks or so passed without sign of Buffy, and Xander had almost given up on her, when one day he arrived at the double doors to the sound of arguing voices.

"...don't know what you think I can do about it," a female voice was saying as he put his hand on the smooth wood of the door. A familiar voice; he was sure it was her. "You know how busy I am," she continued. "If the Watcher's Council wanted their precious Slayer to be out killing vampires and demons instead of hunting aliens, they never should have told the President about me."

"Be that as it may..." the librarian, Giles, began.

"Find someone else to cover the Hellmouth," she said, in short, clipped tones. "Someone who can be here all the time, because I sure can't. I barely get to see my Mom as it is. I'll keep bringing you my reports, and I'll help out if there's an apocalypse, but this penny ante stuff? Really not my gig."

She stormed out of the library, nearly clobbering Xander in the face with the door, and passed him by without noticing. He watched her go, then turned and left himself; he didn't think he wanted to face Giles just yet, with everything he'd overheard still rattling around in his brain.

He didn't know what to make of this talk of vampires and demons and apocalypse, but it certainly would explain an awful lot about the weird things that happened around town. If aliens were real, why not the terrors that flapped in the night? Maybe Willow would be able to help him make sense of it all.

--


	4. An Untimely Frost

**Title**: An Untimely Frost 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS/Independence Day (ID4)

**Summary**: Mrs. Madison had been able to land an altogether more costly blow. 600 words. Part of the "Buffy Summers, Alien Slayer" series.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS mid-"The Witch" (1.3); Independence Day (1996). Follows "No Victory Dance" and "Hero on the Hellmouth".

--------------------

Rupert Giles slumped back against the wall of the science classroom, feeling every minute of his age. It had been a great many years since he'd attempted a casting of any magnitude, and with only Xander and his two enthusiastic yet completely human friends to assist him he hadn't been sure he could effect the reversal of the spell cast upon Miss Madison without leaving himself vulnerable to an attack by her mother, a witch of significant power and ability. He could perhaps have given Catherine Madison a run for her money during his Ripper days, but he had long since let his connection to the darkness lapse, and his skill with light magic had never been significant.

As it happened, he hadn't been able to stop her completely; though he'd been able to reverse the soul-switching spell placed upon her daughter and the spell that had blinded another of the cheerleading students, Mrs. Madison had been able to land an altogether more costly blow. In her rage, she had invoked Corsheth in an attempt to rip Amy's soul from her body, and only Jesse's timely and tragic intervention had prevented the girl from succumbing. Xander and Willow had tried to lower the mirror above their workspace to reflect the magic as soon as she had began to cast, but had not been strong or swift enough to reposition it before the malevolent energy reached its target.

Fortunately for all concerned, Mrs. Madison had been caught in the backlash of a second attempt at the spell, and had likewise vanished in a roar of energies. From the look on Xander's face, Giles feared that the boy might have attempted homicide in reaction to his friend's disappearance had the witch not been beyond his reach. Young Willow, standing beside the boy, was pale and shaking with sobs, and Amy seemed equally traumatized by the entire experience; Giles could think of nothing to say to them, save perhaps that at least they had not been forced to slay their friend themselves, and he suspected that such a comment would entirely fail to comfort them.

If only his Slayer had been here with them-- but the Council had taken that out of his hands, and he had neither the authority to order her to stay nor the funds to requisition a team of operatives in her place. The appearance of safety for the entire country, and indeed the world, were more important to them than any one town, even if said town were in fact the mouth of a Hell that could open to swallow them all if left unprotected. The Council had decided that with the Master of Sunnydale trapped and quiet in his underground lair, his childer all dead in the invasion or spread out in an apparent attempt to find a means of turning the alien presence to their benefit, there was no threat in the town worth guarding against. Giles knew that they were wrong, but he also knew they would never listen.

The Harvest may have been delayed, but it would undoubtedly still arrive at some point in the near future. By the time the Council deigned to act it would be too late, and it would be up to Giles, with whatever help he could assemble, to stop the Master on his own. Little though he wished to involve the children any further in the supernatural after the tragedy they'd just experienced, they might prove the deciding factor in the battles to come.

Giles levered himself awkwardly to his feet, already mourning the loss of their innocence.

--


End file.
